Galion's Holiday
by Pip the Dark Lord of All
Summary: Galion gets bored with life in the Woodland Realm, and decides to go on a vacation. Only, this is not an ordinary trip, and many strange things will happen on his travels. Coauthored by Pip the Dark Lord of All and Sixty-Four K.
1. Galion wants a break

This story is coauthored by myself, the Dark Lord of All, and my famous lieutenant, Sixty-Four K. *bows dramatically* And yes, Sixty-Four, you are my lieutenant. Go pick my mushrooms now. MWAHAHA!

By the way, this first fabulous chapter is written by 64K. The next installment will be authored by my awesome self! Enjoy.. Or not... we are not responsible for any insanity this tale may cause...

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Chapter One: Galion's Holiday

"My lord?"  
Thranduil looked up from his Ipad and away from his game to see his butler standing before him. "Can I help you, Galion?" asked the Elvenking, slightly annoyed at the interruption. He'd been only two bounces away from a gold ranking, but the butler's appearance had distracted him, and downgraded his ranking to silver.

Galion's expression fell. "Have I annoyed you, sire?"

"Oh, no, no," said Thranduil, embarrassed that he had been unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

"Well," said Galion, absent-mindedly scuffing at the floor with his shoe, "I was wondering if you needed anything right now."

Thranduil thought. "Don't you have anything to do right now?" he asked after a minute of wracking his brain for ideas.

"Not really," said Galion. "I've gotten tomorrow's menu planned, and today's dinner is already cooking. The floors are mopped, the inventory stocked, and the guard schedule worked out for the next week."

Thranduil's face lit up suddenly. "Actually, Galion," he began, "there is something that you could do for me..."

"Tell me if I've anticipated your request correctly, sire," said Galion, pulling a bottle of Dorwinion and a golden goblet seemingly from midair.

"Ah, yes," said Thranduil. "You can read my mind, it seems. Whatever would I do without you, Galion?"  
"You'd survive," said Galion, holding the goblet behind his back and pouring the wine over his shoulder into it without spilling on his blue robe.

"Well, you're probably right, but- wait, what are you doing? You're going to waste good Dorwinion by spilling."

"In all of my years of service to you, my lord, have I ever spilled a drop of Dorwinion?" asked Galion, handing the goblet to Thranduil with a charming smile.

"Well, there was that time that you fell down the-"

"Yes, well, that was Legolas' fault," interrupted Galion hastily. "Anyway, you'll survive. I'll be off, now."

"What?" shouted Thranduil. "Where are you going?"

"No need to shout," said Galion, picking up his packed bags, which Thranduil had only just noticed. "I'm off on holiday for the weekend. Don't worry, everything's taken care of. I wouldn't leave you stranded, would I? Feren's taking over cleaning duties for the time being, and young Lethuin is going to be playing cook. You're in good hands, sire."

Before Thranduil could say anything more, Galion turned on his heel, leaving the throne room. Feren met him in the hall. "Did he say you could?"

"Well, he didn't say no," said Galion, tying a cloak around his neck. "You'll do fine, don't worry."

Feren groaned. "I'm too nice to you- good gravy, does mopping take a lot out of a fellow."

"Just be glad that you don't have to do it every day," said Galion. "Be nice to the Elvenking, and have fun." With that, he exited the halls of the Elvenking, leaving the still-groaning Feren behind him.

Galion travelled in his usual stealthy way for an hour or so- that was all it took for him to reach Barad-Dur, his holiday destination. Galion stared up at the black towers with exuberant trepidation. He could hardly wait- the Dark Lord had promised him a very fun holiday, with only light work. Of course, Galion would return to the Elvenking after the weekend was over- he wasn't so disloyal as all that, but he was really looking forward to his weekend.

The dark gates swung open, and an orc poked his conspicuous head through the opening. "Enter," he said sonorously. "My master has been expecting you."

Galion nodded courteously to the orc and entered. As he walked towards the door of the tower, the orc watched his retreating back. He snickered. "I certainly hope that you enjoy your stay," he said, loudly enough for Galion to hear. Then, he whispered to himself, "though I sincerely doubt it."

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Review. Now. Or Galion will take all your donuts.


	2. An unpleasant surprise

Hello, my loyal subjects! This wonderful chapter was written by my loyal butler, Pip the Dark Lord of All. The next chapter, just like the previous one, will be written by my most fabulous self. Enjoy!

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Galion walked through Barad-Dur confidently. He was relieved to have arrived there, and couldn't wait to start the festivities. The butler made his way to the throne room, where the Dark Lord Pippin was almost certainly waiting for him. Pip had told him he was going to have a wonderful time, and Galion did a little dance of excitement at the thought.

And bumped into the Witch-King.

"Ahh... oops! Sorry!" Galion apologized hastily. "I think..."

"Watch where you are walking, elf-scum." hissed the Witch-King creepily.

"It was an accident..."

"I shall report you to Pippin, the Dark Lord of All. You will regret this deed of woe."

Galion scampered away, leaving the Witch-King probably rubbing his injured face, but it was invisible and no one knew.

Galion found the throne room, and burst in, forgetting to knock. He dashed up to Pippin. "I can't wait! This is going to be so much fun! I haven't gone on vacation in forever!" he shouted, slapping Pippin on the back.

Pippin stopped eating mushrooms and slowly turned to stare at Galion silently.

"Well? Aren't you glad to see me?" Galion asked angstily.

"Not really." Pippin growled. "You're way too happy! I do not tolerate happiness and glee in this Dark Tower of Evil! I must punish you for this."

"You're kidding, right?" asked Galion. "Of course you are! Haha, that's funny!"

"I do not joke." Pippin said darkly. "You must clean Barad-Dur."

Galion's eyes almost popped out of his head. "Clean... Barad-Dur?"

"Yes, my living space has many annoying particles of dust laying around. You can clean them up."

A tear rolled down Galion's cheek. "We're not going to have fun? This is my holiday!"

Pippin laughed. "You are so gullible. As I stated, I do not tolerate happiness and glee. This was only a ploy to get myself another slave."

Galion collapsed onto the floor and sobbed.

Pippin turned away and motioned to an orc, who gave Galion rags, mops, and other cleaning supplies.

Galion stared at them through his tears. "Do I really have to?"

"Do it." grunted the orc. "Or, quite simply, you will be killed."

Galion groaned sadly and started scrubbing the floor.

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Pip's Galion has received my seal of approval(which is the highest honour I can bestow). *bestows Galion with a seal of approval* Tell us what you think! Review, or Dark Lord Pip will devour your mushrooms before your horrified eyes!


	3. Galion's day gets even worse

Butler? I am no butler! Get over here, lieutenant. *force chokes 64K* You are my lieutenant. The End. Oh, and this chapter is 64K's.

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Galion blinked. Then he scrubbed. Then he blinked again. Then he-

His head jerked up instinctively, and he blinked again. Had he been... falling asleep? Nonsense. He never fell asleep during work. But this job was very hard... he had been scrubbing non-stop for two days and two nights. He couldn't take a moment to rest, however. He couldn't risk angering Pippin, the Dark Lord of All.

Galion heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see the Witch-king, who was striding purposefully towards him. "Can I help you?" asked Galion.

"Certainly," said the Witch-king. "I'll let you know the instant that I think of something for you to do." He began to pace around the freshly-scrubbed room. "You missed a spot," he said, pointing a ghostly finger towards the one spot on the floor that Galion hadn't touched yet.

"I wasn't done yet," muttered Galion, crawling over to the dirty spot.

"Well, you should have been," scoffed the Witch-king.

"Is this about your face?" asked Galion. "I'm awfully sorry about that."

"You should be," said the Witch-king, beginning to pace again.

Galion noticed where the Witch-king was pacing to. "Don't go there!" he gasped. "I just mopped there. It's still w-"

The Witch-king suddenly slipped on the wet floor and unceremoniously fell to the ground. He groaned pathetically, rubbing at his invisible face.

"Are you alright?" asked Galion, tentatively edging towards his fallen foe. "Can I see-"

"Of course you can't see!" shrieked the Witch-king. "You stupid-head! You will be sorry for not warning me earlier! And you shouldn't have left so much wetness on the floor!"

"I can't help but leave 'wetness' on the floor," exploded Galion, who had decided that the time for politeness was behind him. "I just mopped it, and I have been for two days straight. This was supposed to be my vacation, and it has instead turned into slavery! The Elvenking will be extremely displeased with your treatment of me."

The Witch-king scoffed pathetically (because his face was still sore). "Hah! The Elvenking has no power in comparison to our Dark Lord. You might as well leave your uppity ways behind you, for soon, Lord Pippin will work any resistance out of you. You will be no better than a mindless orc once our lord is through with you."

A passing orc sniffed, offended at being called mindless; however, he feared the Witch-king too much to confront him, so he merely passed on, out of the room and out of this story.

Galion fainted.

The Witch-king gaped (or he would have, if his face had not been invisible). Had his tale of woe scared the butler that much? Or had the two days of work simply caught up to him? Then he laughed. It mattered not. He had at least paid him back for the pain to his his poor face. The Witch-king dragged the butler's limp body to a corner, where he would be less conspicuous. He didn't want any curious visitors asking questions. Then, he stalked off towards the throne room. He would speak to Dark Lord Pippin, and ask him to make good on the threat to Galion. Hah! Galion had thought that cleaning was bad. Just wait until he learned what the Dark Lord had in store for him.

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Review or I will make Galion work even more! Mwhahahaha!


	4. Galion picks mushrooms

If you've been reading the author's notes, you may have noticed some discrepancy between what Pip and I consider each other to be. Let me make this clear- Pip is my butler. She only thinks otherwise because I have let her. Let that be a lesson to you all.

Now- please enjoy... this Galion... *chokes*Angst... *sobs*

*wails and cannot be comforted*

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Galion woke suddenly and rather violently as icy water was dumped over him.

"On your feet, elf-scum." growled a orc-voice nearby. "Don't make me dump more water on you."

Galion blinked hard and sat up, dazed. "Whaaatt..." he muttered.

"You have been reassigned to the Mushroom Farm." the random orc said unemotionally. "The Dark Lord Pippin is most displeased with your progress."

"Mushroom Farm? But I don't know how to grow mushrooms!"

"You will learn." the orc snarled. "Get moving, before you earn more punishment."

Galion staggered to his feet and followed the orc, barely realizing what he was doing. What had he ever done to deserve this? All he had wanted was a little break. Perhaps that was too much to ask, he thought gloomily.

The orc led Galion to a large field. It was covered with countless orcs picking the mushrooms. The random orc shoved Galion roughly.

"Start picking them. Get to work."

Galion groaned and set about picking the mushrooms as quickly as possible. He tossed them carelessly into a huge basket that he was obviously meant to fill.

A huge orc overseer came over and slapped him cruelly across the face. Galion cried out, and, losing his balance, fell into a mud puddle. The orc pulled him out and shook him.

"Don't do that!" he growled at Galion.

The poor butler was almost speechless. "What did I...?"

"You do NOT. EVER. TOSS. PIPPIN'S MUSHROOMS. EVER!" the orc roared. "You will bruise them! The Dark Lord will not put up with such incompetence!"

"I'm sorry, I won't do it again!" Galion squeaked, struggling desperately to escape.

"Apology accepted- for now." snarled the orc. "You will place each mushroom carefully into the basket. You will fill the entire basket with high quality mushrooms within the hour. Do not disappoint me."

The overseer stomped away to torment another mushroom picker.

Galion was losing hope. Would this be how the remainder of his life would be?


	5. Thranduil notices something is missing

I am no butler! *breaks your nose Erestor-style* MWAHAHAHAA, TAKE THAT. I AM THE DARK LORD OF ALL.

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The forest of Mirkwood, while dangerous, filled to bursting with spiders and malicious trees, is quite a tranquil place. That is, until the tranquillity is shattered by a sudden shriek, usually coming from one Elvenking. This was one such occasion.

"Curses!" shrieked Thranduil. He tossed his Ipad behind him with a wrathful glare, ignoring the ear-piercing shattering of glass that ensued. "If the game won't let me win, then I won't play the game at all," he sniffed. Then he blinked, rubbing at his suddenly-dry eyes. Playing games for this long obviously wasn't good for him- why, the tips of his ears were pink! Horrors! He definitely needed to take a break. With that thought, Thranduil stalked out of the throne room, towards the kitchen.

On his way there, Thranduil came upon Feren, who was mopping the floor. The Elvenking looked suspiciously down at his less-than-loyal servant. "Why are you mopping?" he asked, surprised that Feren would do anything without some monetary compensation.

Feren groaned, pressing a hand to the small of his back. "I... I'm mopping for Galion," he gasped. "He's gone for now, and I promised I'd do the job."

"Gone?" demanded Thranduil. "What do you mean, 'gone'?"

"Well," said Feren weakly. "I thought he told you."

"Incompetent fool," snarled Thranduil. "When I ask you a question, answer immediately, if you please!" With that, the Elvenking stalked away before Feren had another chance to come up with an answer.

"Galion!" called Thranduil, marching into the kitchen. "Galion! Cook me something immediately! I am quite famished."

Much to Thranduil's dismay, the head that popped up from behind the counter did not belong to Galion, but, rather, to Lethuin, Thranduil's least-useful guard/hunter. The less-than-useful member of Mirkwood's royal household looked sullenly over at his king. "I'm not Galion," he said.

The Elvenking rolled his eyes. "I can see that. Where, may I ask, is he?"

Lethuin stared sullenly down at the floor. "He's on a vacation."

"Don't be so sullen," said Thranduil. Then, he stopped. "Vacation?"he repeated. "I didn't give him permission to go on a vacation."

"Well, he's gone anyhow," said Lethuin. "You know him. Does whatever he pleases."

Thranduil was stunned. He had never thought that Galion would have the audacity to betray him in such a manner. "Well, he can't go! We have to get him back!"

Lethuin glared at Thranduil, eyes filled with boredom. "He's gone already."

"I know that! But I can't run the household without him!" shouted Thranduil. "Feren! Saddle my elk! Lethuin! Gather the essential supplies! Legolas! Get over here! We are going off in search of Galion!" Then, he grinned evilly. "Galion will be punished most severely for his audacity when we return."

OoOoOoO

Was this the end of all things? Galion certainly thought so, as he lay with his face in the mud, his shaking hand placing one last mushroom in his now-full basket. He was very nearly dead to the world; he paid no heed to the orc overseer who was rapidly approaching him, no doubt preparing to punish him for his laziness.

OoOoOoO

Thranduil mounted his elk fabulously, tossing his hair simultaneously. "Feren, have you any idea where Galion left to?" he asked his messenger over his shoulder.

"He just said vacation, old bean," said Feren. "However, he did set off in the direction of Barad-Dur."

Thranduil's eyes widened in horror. "What was he thinking, going there? The Dark Lord Pippin dwells within those walls, and who knows what he would do to him?"

Feren stared guiltily down at his feet. "I didn't think of stopping him, old sport; he just seemed so excited about finally getting to go on a vacation for once, and I guess I was happy for him."

Thranduil's expression shifted to appear half-guilty(but not fully guilty, of course; he was the king, and thus, could never be truly be guilty for anything). "He could have asked me. I would've sent him off to Imladris or Lothlorien for the weekend. Erestor would have been glad to see him." Then, the Elvenking's face grew determined. "We cannot delay. We must journey to this dark fortress, and deliver Galion from whatever peril he may be facing."

Feren was secretly relieved that Thranduil had seemingly forgotten his "severe punishment" for Galion, but didn't bother saying anything for fear of reminding the Elvenking. "You're right. Let's go," was all he said.

"Can I lead the charge, Ada?" asked Legolas eagerly, finally making an appearance.

"Certainly not," sniffed Thranduil. "If we are declaring war on Barad-Dur, I want to do it myself."

"War?" Legolas was stunned. "Surely you don't intend to go that far."

"Not at the moment, but this will surely be interpreted as such an act," said Thranduil. "But no matter. Let us away!"

The party rode away on their various steeds towards the dark fortress.

Galion wasn't exactly sure what the orc was saying. It didn't sound like it was speaking very clearly. Galion tried to tell it to enunciate, but couldn't find the strength to do so.

He prepared to die. Of course, this wasn't the way he had wanted to go, but he supposed it was a better death than a broken neck from falling down the cellar stairs. With this unusual burst of optimism, he once again prepared to die.

And then he heard the orc shriek, and then there was silence. And then he found himself staring confusedly into the faces of the rest of the Mirkwood household.

"Is he dead?" asked Legolas.

"Of course not, stupid," said Thranduil worriedly. "His eyes aren't all the way closed, so he can't be dead."

"Don't know where that logic came from, old bean," said Feren.

"I'm sure he's just faking it," said Lethuin sullenly.

Galion opened his eyes wider. He grinned. "Quite the holiday, that was," he stated.

Lethuin winced. "Maybe he's not faking it. Since when does he talk like that?"

"It's going to be alright, Galion," said Thranduil. "We'll have a nice party when we get back, and I won't make you do any of the work... and I'm sorry for thinking that I would punish you... you look terrible. Someone, put him on a steed and take him back to Mirkwood. I'm going to slay some orcs, and once I'm done that, I'm going to trample every mushroom on this accursed farm." The Elvenking cackled evilly, rubbing his hands together.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Ada?" asked Legolas. "Dark Lord Pippin will declare war on Eryn Lasgalen if you do that."

Thranduil scoffed. "Hah! As if. His puny forces have nothing on my fabulously fabulous fabulousness. Come, my faithful elk."

The elk charged, Thranduil riding magnificently on its back. Feren, Legolas, Galion, and Lethuin stared incredulously as Thranduil charged through the farm, slashing at orcs with his longsword, trampling mushrooms with every step.

"Let's get gone," said Feren enthusiastically.

"Yes, let's," said Lethuin unnecessarily.

The party of four returned to Mirkwood, followed soon by Thranduil, who was covered with orc-blood.. They proceeded to throw a gigantic party(although Thranduil had been forced to shower first, and was late to the party, much to his great annoyance), and Galion did not have to prepare any of it. The revelry was legendary, and the sounds from the party could be heard across the whole of the forest.

In fact, they could even be heard in Barad-Dur.


	6. Pippin is informed of Thranduil's deeds

Isn't my butler most amusing, my fair subjects? To think that I, the fabulous 64K, could be defeated by an Erestor-punch! *hugs Pip Glorfindel-style* Still, she wrote a fabulous chapter, as you will soon see. Review it, or else I will trample you with my elk.

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Merry ran as fast as he could up the long stairways of Barad-Dur. The Dark Lord had to be told what had happened, and he was sure to be furious. He burst into the throne room, panting from exertion.

Pippin ate a crispy mushroom, wiped his hands on an already greasy napkin, then looked at Merry with a cross expression. "Not now!" he complained. "You know I am not to be disturbed. This is my third Afternoon Tea Hour."

"But my Lord!" Merry gasped. "It's urgent!"

"I assume this has to do with my mushrooms." Pippin growled. "What did you mess up this time?"

"Nothing, my Lord."

"Then what do you want?"

Merry's eyes opened wide, and he shouted: "Thranduil came here and stole Galion back and then he trampled all your growing mushrooms and killed almost all your mushroom orcs and then he ran away like the coward that he is!"

Pippin's face grew dark and angry. "He has no authority to do such a deed," he snarled. "My revenge will be quick and merciless. Prepare my reserve army immediately! We will show those Mirkwood scum that I am a force to be reckoned with."

"Yes, my Lord; I will do so at once!" Merry bowed and left.

As Pippin sat there brooding over the loss of his precious mushrooms, he could have sworn that he could hear the elves partying.

GALIONGALIONGALION

Thranduil brought Galion another cup of Dorwinion, staggering slightly as he walked.

"But my Lord, I've already drunk almost a whole barrel!" Galion objected.

Thranduil grinned drunkenly. "So wha?" he slurred. "Have some more, there plenty, yes..."

The Elven King slid fabulously to the floor, his wine glass shattering into a million prices.

Galion sighed. That was one of Thranduil's favorite glasses, and he was sure to be furious when he woke up. He swept away the pieces, and was about to carry Thranduil away when Feren danced up to him, completely drunk and out of it.

"What you doing, Galion the Great?" he said. "This is your party, you shouldn't be working!"

"I am still Thranduil's butler," Galion said matter-of-factly. "And my King is rather...incapacitated."

Feren dumped his wine over Galion and hugged him. "You can never relax! Come on, let's celebrate!"

Galion shrugged, and left Thranduil lying in the middle of his dance floor in a most unfabulous heap.

Moments later, Legolas dashed in. As usual, he had avoided his father's party and had chosen to patrol for enemies instead. He dashed over to Thranduil and shook him.

There was no response.

"Ada, wake up; this is urgent!" Legolas shouted. The party seemed to slow down as most of the elves turned to see what was happening.

Galion raced over to Legolas. "What is going on?"

Legolas groaned. "Pippin's entire army is at our doorstep. All is lost! We will never be able to defeat them, for there are far too many! I knew we should not have destroyed the mushroom farm!"

Galion did the O.O face. "Quick, prepare our armies! We must at least try... although I fear Mirkwood will fall," he added angstily. Legolas ran away to get the defence ready.

GALIONGALIONGALION

Pippin smirked as he saw the small party of elves assemble to meet him. This would be too easy, almost boring. He turned to Merry, who was seated near him.

"Start the attack immediately!" he shouted. "Capture all you can alive!"

"At once, my Lord!" Merry answered.

The downfall of the elves was swift. Pippin captured many alive, including Galion and Thranduil. He brought them all back to Barad-Dur, where they were about to pay for displeasing him.

Soon Pippin's army had rebuilt the mushroom farm, and all the prisoners were put right to work.

"This is all your fault!" roared Thranduil at Galion. "What would ever make you want to come here, anyways?"

Galion sniffled and ignored him.

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Remember- REVIEW. OR ELK-TRAMPLING.


	7. Rivendell Acts

Well. My servant, 64K, finally decided to write this, so... here it is! You took forever, my servant. *takes all your mushrooms* *breaks your nose*

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One fine summer's day, Erestor was puttering around his office. He was having quite a good day- usually, he would be rushing around the office, rather than puttering; however, he had completed all of his work for the next week. Thus, he was puttering, for he could not bear to keep from working at all, even though he didn't have much work to do. At the moment, Erestor was going around the room, straightening the furniture in order to keep it either exactly parallel or exactly perpendicular to the wall. Suddenly, his eyes grew wide, and with a little gasp, he fell, not ungracefully, to the floor.

Lindir was walking down the hall outside Erestor's office when his sensitive ears detected the sound of something falling to the ground. In a burst of heroism, the brave little minstrel burst into the room, ready to right whatever wrong had just occurred.

As Lindir entered the room, he immediately noticed the prone form of Erestor upon the ground. Lindir gasped, rushing over to the scene of the incident. "Are you alright, Erestor? It's not at all common to find you lying on the ground!"

Erestor moaned, meeting Lindir's worried gaze. "I...I felt a great disturbance in the Force, Lindir. It was as if millions of voices cried out in terror, and then suddenly quit crying out, and started complaining about having to do hard work instead."

Lindir gasped. "That's dreadful! Those poor people!"

Erestor got up, brushing off his clothes. "Isn't it, though?"

Suddenly, Lindir fell to the ground. "Oh, I feel it, too!" he cried. "It's Feren! My family bond is acting up."

"So that's what that was," said Erestor thoughtfully. "I didn't think about that- my family bond may be doing the same thing. We must hurry and tell Lord Elrond that the Mirkwood elves are in trouble. I fear that they are in dire straits indeed."

Upon hearing Erestor's news, Elrond needed no persuasion. He immediately gathered together all of the greatest warriors of Imladris in order to march out upon Barad-Dur, which was the location where Erestor felt it was most likely that the cries were coming from. With great pomp and fanfare, the giant party set out from Imladris, ready and willing to face great danger in order to bring peace and joy to Mirkwood once more.

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"Please stop screaming in my ear," said Galion stoically. "There are ten thousand other sounds that I would rather hear. I'm sorry for getting us into this mess. You have my deepest apologies. I am completely, utterly, sincerely and deeply sorry."

Thranduil stopped screaming. "Well, that's all well and good, but how are we going to get out of here? I have no wish to remain a slave for the rest of my immortal life."

Galion started to cry. "I don't know!" he wailed. "Don't always look to me for answers! I haven't always got them! Why can't you ever just leave me alone to get my work done?"

Feren looked up from his half-filled basket of mushrooms. "Stop arguing. We're never going to get out of here if you two chaps don't stop shrieking. We've got to come up with a plan, don't you know? Galion, don't cry."

Galion swiped at his eyes angrily, smudging some mud across his face without noticing. "I'm not crying. My eyes just keep dripping. I should think that you two would be more sympathetic. I thought that I'd escaped this place, and to have to come back is more than I can bear."

Thranduil rolled his eyes. "Don't be so overdramatic, Galion. Feren, I'm trying to think of a plan, but my brain is already so full of genius that it's impossible to simply come up with something. Something important might fly right out of my head if I'm too hasty with coming up with a plan."

"Oh, yes," agreed Feren. "There's so much stuff in your brain; I'm surprised that it doesn't implode."

"Hush!"

The king and the jack-of-all-trades cast a sharp glance at the butler's sudden exclamation. "Shut up, Galion," said Thranduil irately. "Can't you see? Feren and I were at the crux of engaging in a rousing Monarchy Debate."

"But listen!" gasped Galion. "I hear them! I hear them!"

Feren sighed. "Poor old boy." He gave a sad glance towards Thranduil. "The old boy's finally cracked."

Thranduil responded with a crazed grin, much to Feren's shock and dismay. "I hear them too!"

Feren shook his head. "You too?" Then, he too gasped. "I… I hear them! And I see them too!"

The three Mirkwood elves, despite all appearances, were not actually entirely insane, for indeed, a mighty host was drawing near to the fortress of Barad-Dur. The entire population of Rivendell marched towards the dark fortress, led by Glorfindel, who rode proudly astride Asfaloth. The Balrog-slayer was closely followed by Elladan and Elrohir, who, consumed as they were with revenge, found it easy to transfer their vengeful thoughts towards Dark Lord Pippin's orcs- after all, all orcs, even mushroom-picking ones, were bad, weren't they?

Lindir and Erestor, who were not accustomed to fighting, stayed towards the rear of the army. They eagerly discussed their plans for comforting the poor, traumatized Mirkwood elves.

"I've written a song which, I hope, will ease the wounded hearts of these poor rustics," said Lindir, strumming his Lyre.

Erestor nodded approvingly. "I've written a dissertation on what the Dark Lord has done wrong. Hopefully he will see the error of his ways once he's read it."

"I hope that Feren will be alright," said Lindir wistfully. "He always manages to get himself into the worst trouble."

"Don't worry," said Erestor. "He'll be fine. I'm more worried about Galion. I never known someone to get himself physically hurt or mentally traumatized so often until I met him."

The Battle For the Mirkwood Elves was speedily won. Despite their peaceful, "more wise, less dangerous" appearance, the elves of Rivendell were powerful warriors, and defeated the mushroom-picking orcs with ease. There were very few guards, for Dark Lord Pippin had thought that the Mirkwood elves' spirits were so broken that they would not dare to run away, and these guards were defeated in short order. The weak, tired and traumatized elves were loaded up onto spare horses and carted off to Rivendell. Not even one elf had been killed, or even wounded, in the battle. The army returned joyfully to Rivendell, but not before Erestor dropped his fifty-page paper in the Barad-Dur mailbox.

Once again, the sounds of revelry echoed across Middle-Earth, this time from Rivendell. And once again, the sounds reached the ears of Pippin, the Dark Lord of All.


	8. Pippin's Allies

I am not your servant! *stabs my butler with a Morgul Blade* How dare you speak such treachery to your fabulous king?

Review, dear subjects- and thank you to the obedient guests who reviewed!

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Pippin stomped up the stairs of Barad-Dur. "Really?" he screamed at his chief orc. "That was a most pitiful fight. You disgrace me! Those elves must be crushed, without hesitation, without delay!"

"But my Lord Pippin..." moaned the captain.

"No buts! No excuses!" roared Pippin. "You will prepare my armies for a counterattack at once!"

"Yes, my Lord." said the captain, bowing.

"And bring me some mushrooms." Pippin snapped.

"My Lord, there are no mushrooms." the captain murmured. "The elves destroyed them all."

"I WILL DESTROY EVERY PITIFUL ONE OF THEM!" bellowed Pippin, and decapitated the orc captain in his rage. How could he live without his mushrooms?

"My Lord Pippin." a voice said behind him.

Pippin spun around. "What?" he snarled.

A small orc emerged. "My Lord, you have mail." He handed Pippin Erestor's fifty-page paper, then left.

Pippin glanced at it, and raised an eyebrow. It was obviously elf-written, and not worth his time. He ordered an orc to cast it into Mt. Doom, never to be seen again. As the orc left, however, he heard a faint sound. Was it...? Yes, it was. The elves were celebrating, again. This would not be tolerated.

But Pippin's army had been demolished, and he did not even have any mushrooms to strengthen himself. What should he do? He had no allies, no one to turn to in his need. But wait. He did have an ally, one who would surely help him. Pippin rubbed his hands together in wicked anticipation. Yes, the elves were not important. Their resistance was absolutely futile.

Pippin strode over to a strange machine, and hit some buttons hurriedly. A few moments later, a hologram of his friend and ally, Emperor Palpatine, appeared.

"You wish to speak with me?" the Sith Lord asked with a sadistic grin.

"Yes, my fellow Dark Lord." Pippin said. "I ask you to honor our allegiance, and help me in this terrible crisis."

"What is your wish?" Palpatine inquired.

"You have a Death Star. Destroy the elf-stronghold of Rivendell." Pippin said without any regret in his voice.

"It would be my pleasure." Palpatine cackled. "There will be nothing left of it."

"Good," hissed Pippin, and cut off the hologram. The elves would never escape this attack.

Moments later, a laser beam from space shot down and Rivendell exploded in fire. Pippin grinned, and called in his remaining troops.

"Go capture any survivors." he laughed. "I will need workers on my new and improved mushroom farm."

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Review, or else the Death Star will blow up your house!


	9. The Enterprise

My lieutenant 64 finally decided to write the next chapter. And I finally noticed the alert buried in my email, so here it is. XD

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Galion was traumatized. The forces of Pippin, the Dark Lord of All had destroyed his home in Mirkwood. The Death Star had destroyed Rivendell, where he had thought that he could be safe. He was trapped in Lord Pippin's mushroom farm. Everyone was angry at him for starting this mess – at least, everyone from Mirkwood was. He thought that his life couldn't possibly get any worse. He started to cry.

Unfortunately, Glorfindel heard his sobs.

"Aww, poor guy!" the Balrog slayer exclaimed. He rushed away from his mushroom basket, and hugged Galion, then 'dropped' him to the ground. Galion, who already had fainted from the force of the hug, now had a concussion as well.

Erestor ran over. He punched Glorfindel, knocking him out. He then punched Galion, waking him up. "Don't despair," he said. "I know that things seem rotten, but I have a brilliant plan."

Galion slowly sat up, wiping the blood from his face. "What's your plan…" he muttered disorientedly.

Erestor grinned evilly. "I have a logical ally. He is, if this is at all possible, even more logical than I am. Only he is logical enough to find a way to get us out of this mess."

"Is it me?" asked Galion hopefully.

Erestor stared incredulously at Galion. "Of course not. My ally is…" He drew in a deep breath. "Mr. Spock."

Palpatine sat at the center of the Death Star, watching the suffering that he had caused through various holograms set up throughout the room. He chuckled. He did so enjoy seeing the poor elves slaving away; it reminded him of his many exploits of years past. Year before– he grimaced. Years before his apprentice, Darth Vader, had betrayed him.

Palpatine scoffed,his anger at Vader fading to annoyance. Vader was of no consequence. He had Pippin now. The young hobbit showed much aptitude towards the Dark Side. Perhaps Palpatine would train him someday.

This thought was the last that Palpatine would ever have, as a piercing pain that filled his entire body shot through him. The last thing that he would ever see was the shadow of a Vulcan standing over him, victorious.

"What's that?" asked Galion, staring up at the sky.

"That's the Starship Enterprise," said Erestor, gazing with great satisfaction at the battle in the sky above them. "It's going to blow up the Death Star and save us all."

The Starship Enterprise shot into the Death Star's ventilation shaft with marvelous speed, accuracy, and precision. The Death Star blew up with a tremendous bang, spreading pollution and debris all over Middle Earth. The elves enslaved by Pippin didn't care about that, though; they cheered and danced. Their slavery was over.

Thranduil sauntered over. "We shall have a party for them," he proclaimed.

The Enterprise landed in the center of the mushroom fields, crushing countless mushrooms beneath its weight. Captain Kirk stepped out of it. "A Party," he said, "In Space!"

Thranduil needed no further invitation. "Come on!" he cried, waving the elves towards the ship. "Let's party in Space!"

The elves poured into the ship, which promptly took off as soon as every elf was inside. They flew off into space, happy and joyous.

But Lord Pippin, watching them from afar, was not happy and joyous.


End file.
